


Dark Corners

by desperationandgin



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-21
Updated: 2014-08-21
Packaged: 2018-02-14 03:16:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2176035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/desperationandgin/pseuds/desperationandgin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Queen and the Thief meet in a dark corner, but it doesn't end the way you think.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dark Corners

**Author's Note:**

> Just a short one shot that came out of nowhere.

She’s against the wall before being able to comprehend what’s happening, and then Robin’s mouth is pressing to her neck, his teeth are against her skin, and the noise Regina makes is needy and breathless, driving him forward.

Fourteen hours ago she’d been telling him she didn’t care if he fell down a dark staircase in the blackest shadows of her castle, and now here they are, in a dim quiet corner with one of his hands pushing up her dress, cool palm resting on the warm flesh of her thigh. They don’t speak, there are only breaths and the sound of fabric; the sound of his lips against her flesh leaving no room for questioning what the hell was happening.

She knows what’s happening. She’s sad and lonely and he’s warmth and never takes her bait, is always dimples and charm and unrelenting smiles at her.

She would think she’s taking advantage of him, of his kindness, except that he’d grabbed her as she walked by the dark passageway after sneering at him, and she’s currently letting him cup the now aching heat between her thighs and she realizes it’s not his virtue she should be worried about. Not that she has any left, either.

The problem with this godforsaken clothing, she remembers, is that there’s no easy access for him, to the place her heat is pooling, and she curses under her breath which makes his lips smirk against her chest where he’s gotten as far as he can before cloth curves over breasts.

"Impatient, your majesty?"

She can hear his satisfaction and reaches between them now to see who exactly is impatient between them, cupping him through his trousers and reveling in the way his breath stutters. “I can feel you. Don’t think you’re so far above me.” Her words are breathless and without bite, because he is hard, and he wants her, she can  _feel it_. And she realizes she wants him, wants him to rip at her clothes and put his fingers to good use. _  
_

With a small cloud of purple smoke she waits for him to realize what she’s done, feels his fingers drift across her inner thigh, and watches his eyes light up when his fingers brush against warm bared flesh; watches them darken when her hand shoots up to rest on his shoulder and her nails dig into his skin through the thin tunic he wears.

There’s a moment, a lull in the heat when she wonders what the hell she’s doing. She hates him, thinks he’s smug, thinks  _he thinks_  he knows everything. He smells like forest; pine needles and smokey camp fires and it’s not a bad thing, not like she’d wanted Snow to believe when she’d said the words initially. It’s all she smells now, it’s all she wants, and she has a moment of realizing she wants her pillows and sheets to smell like this. But to invite him to her chambers will give him the wrong idea about what this is.

(She has no idea what this is.)

But then his thumb is brushing her clit and all this is, is want and feel and touch, and her hands clutch at his sides desperately, drawing in a deep breath through her nose, making her breasts heave and his groan seem too loud. She can hear him telling her she’s wet, and she is, she should be embarrassed, but it’s been too long for her to care. She only nods and pulls her bottom lip between her teeth as her eyes close and she feels the scruff of his stubble graze across her chest.  She is wet, and she wants him, and if he stops she’ll kill him right here in the hall.

Luckily it doesn’t come down to that, and his thumb doesn’t stop, his thumb moves and the sound she makes is needy and it’s a whine that she would normally berate herself for. She’s open and pliable and he lets two fingers slide inside of her. Two fingers that make her cry out, the sound echoing on stone as she feels him push her slightly, her back moving up against the wall as he touches, her jaw dropping in pleasure and want.

It’s a fleeting thought when she realizes he hasn’t kissed her. Not once. But then he’s moving faster and harder and her cries are louder and her heart beats faster until she is coming, coming and coming and one leg is behind his hip, and she can’t think. It’s all want and heat and the tightness of her belly before she falls limp, breathing hard and heavy.

Regina can feel every slam of her heart, and she feels drugged, sedated, her mind foggy and her tongue licking across her full bottom lip slowly. She watches him watching her, and she reaches between them again to feel him hard and hot, his groan as reverberating as her own whimpers had been. She thought this was what he wanted, what he would let her do. When his hand goes to hers and pushes her away, her eyes lock on his.

“ _What_?”

Maybe he wants something different, to be inside of her, to make her cry out in pleasure again.

"This wasn’t for me."

Her eyes rest on his, her pleasure addled mind making her slow to catch up to his words.

Was this pity? Was it because she looked sad and pathetic and she was charity to the thief? She doesn’t know which thought to say first, the humiliation and reaffirmed loathing rising to the surface as she pushes away from him.

"Regina…"

“ _Don’t_.”

"You didn’t let me fin - "

"You’ve said and done enough." She pushes away, she hates this, hates him and she knows it now clearer than ever.

His hand grips her wrist, not wanting to let her go, but she’s gone in a plume of purple. He never has the chance to tell her that he’s going to step back, to make her feel worthy and wanted and worth more than dark corners and empty hallways. But she’s gone before he can tell her.

A week later, a new curse arrives, and he supposes, in his last few moments before the unknown happens, that he will never have the chance to make a chaste meeting with the queen right.


End file.
